


torchbearer

by creampuffs



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffs/pseuds/creampuffs
Summary: Seven years after Yukiko's unexpected departure, Chie waits for her still, a lone torchbearer in an empty field of fog.





	torchbearer

Yukiko's sudden and unexplained departure had thrown everyone, and everything, for a loop.  
  
A loop, you suspected back then, that you might never step out of.  
  
Her parents explained to the town that she was pursuing her studies abroad, but when pressed, they refused to disclose exactly where. They laughed it off, dispelling everyone's curiosity with a casual grace and a feigned attitude of, 'Oh, children, you know how they are.'  
  
While you could tell the whole team was upset, they decided to focus their collective attention onto you, because as shocking as the news was, it was more disquieting to realize that she had left without telling you a single thing.  
  
There were many e-mails sent, without replies. Many useless texts and phone-calls you knew were stupid because if she really did prance off to Europe or America, it was dumb to think that her phone would even have service. You refused to open your outbox because the embarrassment and shame would be enough to ruin your mood for an entire day. Eventually sorrow broke way to rage and you found yourself engulfed by a self-righteous fury that propelled you to write letter after letter, for days and days that stretched to weeks that stretched to months. Obviously, the letters never got sent anywhere and collected dust in a shoebox you shoved under your bed. Her departure made it clear that your possessiveness and affection for her might have grown past platonic, so the bitterness you felt was compounded by a quickly repressed identity crisis that you would only unpack years later.  
  
It took a whole year for you to stop thinking about her every day.  
  
It took two years total to stop thinking about her every other day, and it took three before you managed to get through a week without remembering.  
  
Four years later, you moved out of Inaba, and another year passed as you started building the foundations for a life in Tokyo.  
  
You went to school, you studied criminal justice, you graduated, and you got placed in the local precinct of your city district. In a sense, you ended up exactly where you thought you'd be. The salary was secure and while the glamorous nature of the job that had once been romantic wasn't entirely a lie, there was enough paperwork and banality to extinguish your childish flame of excitement with enough time.  
  
You are still friends with the team.  
  
Yet maintaining a relationship with people who are not in front of you is a challenge, and somehow, looking online to see the pictures and links of articles they post only makes you feel further away. They seem happy, and though part of you argues that most people try hard to keep a positive presence on the internet, all of it still aches painfully as another signal of things that are simply out of reach.  
  
On the phone, Yosuke jokes that you've become jaded, and after scoffing at his dramatic exaggerations, you eventually reply that maybe you've just woken up. That startles him and frankly, it startles you too.  
  
You have friends to hang out with, and you try to go out every so often. Your socializing group consists of a few classmates from school and some guys at the office who make you realize that befriending Yosuke had not only given you the ability to deliver perfect "kicks to the nads", but it also taught you with how to deal with idiots from all walks of life.  
  
The long months are punctuated with the occasional drinks, hang-outs, day-trips, birthday parties and all the things you imagine most young adults enjoy. There are even dates with an eclectic mix of men and sometimes women (a discovery you vehemently repress until finally, on a sixth shot of vodka during one particular outing with a pretty "girl-friend", you realize that life is probably too fucking short to deny such evident self-truths.)  
  
You don't think you feel particularly unmotivated, or that life has lost its spark. The rational part of you feels that after jumping into a television, summoning unexplained deities, wielding magical powers, and stopping a bunch of murders in a no-name town, a natural deceleration in the speed of your life was just to be expected. Never mind the abrupt disappearance of your childhood friend or the painful nonchalance with which she dissipated from your life, as easily and swiftly as the rolling fog of the Samegawa plains.  
  
There is still a dumb, knee-jerk part of you that does a double take when you spot black hair and flashes of red clothes. A piece of you still twists whenever you hear a particular volume and warble of a laugh, and you can't help but study the arrangement of criss-crossing laugh lines on the people who smile at you. You fight an urge to chase after these signals, and you feel bad, almost always, whenever some poor unfortunate soul returns an interest in you.  
  
The relationships never last.  
  
They always simmer out, some faster than others, because it never takes long before a woman notices when you're gazing through them and not at them. They leave and you never put up much of a fight, sometimes even apologizing, however awkward, about the falling out. Your friends tease you for your inability to seemingly maintain a relationship for longer than four months, and you jokingly tell them that you are simply too busy, and besides, what's the rush? It all somehow blends together, and your days turn over again and again and you are sometimes surprised by the level of disinterest you've adopted about your own daily life.  
  
One day, you are going about your room in a sudden inspired burst of spring cleaning when you find the shoebox full of letters.  
  
Your first mistake is to open it, and your second more devastating mistake is to read through the goddamn things all over again. Your day goes straight to shit after that, and it is only when you flick on your bedside lamp to better read the letters for the millionth time that you realize the whole afternoon has passed you by. Depressed and defeated, you shove them back in the box and lay down on the ground, spreading your arms out to absorb the coolness of the wooden floor.  
  
It is annoying and painful to realize that even now, you are squinting through that fog, reaching out for Yukiko while making contact with nothing but mist and damp air.  
  
For the millionth time in your life, you wonder if it was your fault she left. Did you say something to her that triggered her to go? Why were you suddenly not worth an explanation or even a goodbye? What happened? Were you disillusioned the whole time about the meaning of your relationship? Did she finally just get sick of you and leave? You feel your eyelids getting heavy and deliberate briefly on whether or not sleeping on the floor would be such a terrible idea. Before you can reach a decision, your phone vibrates loudly, amplified by its contact with the ground. You reach for it and blink a few times at the name on the screen.  
  
It's Souji.  
  
Souji Seta is texting you, and you rack your brain to try and remember the last time you've communicated with him. In classic Souji fashion, he apologizes first for texting so late before asking if you're free for a call. You rub your face, ridding it of the dirt you're sure has accumulated from your earlier cleaning escapades, even though you're aware that a phone call doesn't require real face-to-face interaction. You text back a feigned enthusiastic yes and wait for him to ring.  
  
"Hey, what's up? Long time no talk, yeah?" you answer cheerfully, still laying down on the ground.  
  
He chuckles softly on the line, and you notice a difference in the sound, a deeper rumbling that simply didn't exist back in high school.  
  
"Yeah, it's good to hear your voice again."  
  
You cant help but smile at that, cause Souji's always been good at sharing small but sincere truths.  
  
"Aw man, look at you, sweet talker! Anyways, what's the occasion for the call? How have you been doing?"  
  
He indulges you and describes his most recent activity. He's freelancing as a counselor, and his current job is with an after school program for teens and children who come from disadvantaged or troubled families. It's so altruistic you want to scream, but it's also so _Souji_ that you cant even be mad or fake surprise. He sounds happy, and you can only imagine what kinds of interesting relationships he's been building in Fukuoka. It's your turn next and you recite to him the things you've been up to since you last met, which might have been a year and a half ago for a reunion dinner with the team.  
  
You shoot the shit together talking about the funny things that have happened to you both since, and you almost forget to feel suspicious that he called you out of the blue until finally, there is a lull in the conversation.  
  
"Hey, Chie, there's something else I wanted to talk about."  
  
You sit upright, sensing the seriousness of his words and immediately wonder if something has happened to your friends. Was it Yosuke? Was someone hurt? Or was it about Nanako?  
  
"Yeah, of course. What's wrong? Nothing bad, I hope?" you chuckle awkwardly and feel stupid for it right away, but he continues without judgement.  
  
"I got a call from Yukiko recently, she's back in Japan."  
  
Your breath catches in your chest and your brain plays back the words, as if they can't be processed.  
  
"Actually, she's been here for the past three years, but--"

You choke up immediately when you hear that and laugh, a sharp bark that's grating even to your ears.  
  
"You don't say?"  
  
He's quiet on the other line and your stomach is a hot mess. It's churning and tightening and you think you can feel your eyes prickling. You stare at the wall and start picking aggressively at a clump of knotted string on the edge of your blanket, phone still sandwiched between your shoulder and ear.  
  
"She asked about you. I think she wants to see you."  
  
You take a break from picking at the knotted string to scratch at your own arm, wondering if you've somehow fallen asleep and entered a vivid state of nightmarish dreaming. Unfortunately, the irritated scratch marks on your arm confirm that you are very awake, which leads to another debate about whether your phone might be too expensive to throw against the wall. You can't identify what you're feeling, and the confusing mishmash of emotions competing for space in your head is making it impossible to isolate and identify anything at all.  
  
"Uh huh, is that so," you return to your original position on the ground, back flat on the floor and head facing the ceiling. You hope you don't sound bored or disinterested, but honestly, you can't seem to muster up any clear or manageable emotion. Suddenly you are limp, weak, exhausted, and tired all at once.  
  
Souji sighs and it's so quiet you almost miss it.  
  
"She's in Kyoto. I'll text you the address. I know it's hard, and you definitely don't have to go if you don't want to..." you snort, and for a moment you can't care that it's rude, but he presses onward, cautious yet firm in his tone, "...but I do think it could help to have proper closure and to hear her side of the story."  
  
You have no recollection of how the rest of the phone call goes or what you end up saying in response. All you remember is the achingly hot shower and the long stretch of sleep that concludes the evening.

 

* * *

  
  
The next day comes and so does the day after that, and you are steadfastly ignoring that the phone call ever happened. If anything, you throw yourself more aggressively into work and hanging out and doing anything you can to avoid being alone with your own thoughts. This works for about a week and a half before Souji texts you, asking you how you're doing. You want to scream and punch him in his perfect bowl-cut face but you know he's just worried about you, and you know he's trying to look out for you like always.  
  
You don't reply to him, maybe out of spite and maybe out of some weird, tepid jealousy that Yukiko decided to contact him first to break her long reign of silence.  
  
In some ways it made sense, because everyone in their group looked to Souji for advice and counsel when life threw its curveballs. Hell, even you did it from time to time. Still, it's a bitter pill to swallow, and you stew alone in a childish resentment about it like a brat who never grew up. You want to kick things (more than usual) and flip things over and punch people and run circles around your block until your legs give way. You want to skip meals and then eat a lot and workout for three straight hours and then sleep for ten and you feel increasingly more frazzled as the days go on. Your close friend at the precinct finally approaches you one day during lunch to confront you about your weird behavior. Apparently it's getting bad enough that he tries to recommend you for counseling. You brush him off, telling him you've just been having a weird month, and you answer vaguely with something about family issues.  
  
He is uncomfortable with how little information it is, and you feel...a little bad for lying to him, but you also don't know how to begin describing the landscape of your mind these days.  
  
You are waiting for the train at Shinagawa on your way to work when it happens. Your mind feels quiet and empty, and you are absurdly early to work today for some reason. Sleep has been coy with you these past few days, avoiding you entirely on some nights and ambushing you for prolonged periods of uninterrupted, dreamless slumber on other nights. The train announcer declares that the next bullet train will depart in forty-five minutes, and over the sound of the speaker, you hear the loud caw of a passing magpie that is flying circles inside the terminal. It is a pretty bird, and the white streaks on the side of its body remind you of an open vest. You don't know how your legs take you there but suddenly, you are handing over change at the ticket booth for a one way ticket to Kyoto with your eye still on the bird as it squawks loudly above the heads of passing commuters.  
  
As you start boarding, you see the magpie escape the station, wings beating fast to soar high into the empty stretch of sky.  
  
What an idiot you are, a poor sentimental idiot who never knew when to quit.  
  
The train pulls away from the station and you have the clarity of mind to call in sick to work. You claim you'll need three days of rest from a training accident at the gym, and while HR sounds suspicious and doubtful as hell, you have pulled enough weight at work with little to no sick days that she begrudgingly approves them anyway. You hang up and sit back into the plush seat of the bullet train, watching the passing colors and scenes outside the window smear and bleed into one long painting. You buy a sandwich when the snack cart rolls around but you can barely taste it. The tuna salad ends up sticking to the roof of your mouth as you absently pick at the plastic wrapper.  
  
You're checking your phone, nervously wondering if you should text Souji back. You decide not to, and try to use the two hours you have to catch up on some sleep instead. Needless to say, it proves to be easier said than done, and so you end up spending the ride gazing out the window while starting to regret your impulse decision.  
  
It's weird to realize that somewhere along the line, you had stopped fantasizing about meeting Yukiko again. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about it sometimes. You'd play back scenarios while waiting on the grocery line or at the bank, imagining what a reunion might look like or what kickass, tough thing you might say to finally make her feel regretful and stupid for leaving without a word. Some of these fantasies end with a tearful confession of sorts, or some admittance to a deeper felt feeling than mere friendship, which was clearly a sign that the stupid rom-com films your friends made you watch had left their mark.  
  
Beyond being super unrealistic, the fantasies always left you feeling stupid and hopeless because you had little reason to believe that your more romantic feelings for Yukiko had ever been returned in the first place.  
  
It figured that life would make it so that by the time you reached a comfortable surrender about the whole ordeal, she'd come waltzing back in like she had every right to disrupt and dismantle. It's crazy to think that it's been about seven years since since she left Inaba, and since she left you. Seven years is a long time, and you reflect on how you've changed from that petulant young girl you once were. Still stubborn, yes, but...you'd like to think you've become more mature now. And maybe jaded, as Yosuke said. You wonder what she looks like. No doubt, prettier. You grimace at that, wondering why you even care about something so meaningless, but honestly, you realize that you haven't the damnedest idea what she's like now, in appearance or in personality.  
  
Seven years may not have completely transformed you, but maybe it'd be enough for Yukiko.  
  
It's still late morning when the train pulls into Kyoto, and you're dimly aware that you did not think to ask Souji if Yukiko was working in the city. Considering it was a Tuesday, it was only reasonable to assume that she'd be at her workplace, wherever that was. Going to her apartment now would just result in hanging around like a creepy stalker, and honestly, you felt creepy enough as it was having taken an impromptu train to visit her, uninvited and without warning. Though honestly, you could say the whole news about her return was uninvited news in its own way, and way more emotionally complicated than you'd ever admit. You rub your face in your hands and play with the idea of just going back home and using those three sick days from work to decompress and ignore this whole thing, but you already know that would be impossible.  
  
You buy a canned coffee from a nearby vending machine and leave the station, picking a busy street to walk down. The BOSS Coffee is bitter and sweet, but you like it. Through work and experience, you learned that the stereotype about donuts and coffee loving cops was only half true. You pass by cafes, teahouses, bookstores, restaurants, and a group of school kids you can only imagine are late for class. The GPS on your phone says walking to the general neighborhood that Souji provided would take about an hour, which you think might be good exercise for later. You end up at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change when weirdly, you think you hear your name.  
  
"Hey! Hey, Chie-senpai!"  
  
That's definitely your name. You look around, trying to identify who is calling you. A tall man holding a big box approaches you, and it takes longer than you'd like to realize that the tall man is in fact, Kanji Tatsumi.  
  
"Woah, is that you Kanji?" The side-swept black hair throws you off but you can place him by the telltale scar by the right of his eye and the lanky frame of his body. "You're still totally unrecognizable with your new hair style!"  
  
He breaks out into a grin, face poking from over the top of the box, before shifting it to a more comfortable position in his arms. "Yeah, yeah, good 'ta see you too, Senpai. What are you doing in town? Aren't ya still at Tokyo working at the precinct?" He blinks, eyes narrowing. "Shit, unless you got laid off? No way, you're awesome at what you do...which means...hey, are you here for a case!?"  
  
You scoff, already deciding this was no time and place to try and describe your real reasons for visiting. "Ah, yeah, well, it's a long story, hahaha...anyways, what are you doing here? Aren't you still working at the textiles store back in Inaba?"  
  
If possible, his grin gets even wider, and he looks so immensely proud that the feeling is almost contagious. "I didn't tell ya guys? We were doing so well in Inaba that we opened up a pop-up store right here in Kyoto! Business has been booming!" The box jiggles a bit in his arms and you worry he'll drop it in excitement.  
  
"That's really great, Kanji!...do you need help with that box?" He shrugs you off and gestures with a jerk of his head to a nearby white van. "No worries, Senpai, I'm just finishing up a round of deliveries." Suddenly he looks momentarily abashed and you are reminded of his old teenage awkwardness, both surly and anxious.  
  
"Hey, you're prolly busy but if you got a moment, lemme treat you to lunch since you're in town."  
  
You blink a few times, caught off guard by the offer. He doesn't miss your look of surprise, and immediately begins to backpedal, thinking he's overstepped somehow. "Woah, wait, but I don't mean it like that, I just mean it's been a while and Ma always said it's good to treat your friends and senpais well and--" you can't help the boisterous laugh that escapes you, which shuts him up right away.  
  
"Slow down, Kanji! You know I'd never say no to a meal with you. And all the better if you're really gonna treat me!"  
  
He finally relaxes, and manages a small laugh of his own. "Man, ya really made me nervous for a minute there. I wondered if I was long overdue for one of your galactic punts or something..."  
  
You close the distance between the both of you and flick him lightly on the shoulder. "Nah, don't worry, those are reserved mainly for the biggest idiot in our group. Mind if I join you as you finish up those deliveries? I really have nothing else to do for now."  
  
He's smiling again when he nods, and he motions for you to follow him to his car. "Yeah, of course! Could be nice to have some company. These drop-offs are boring when I'm by myself anyway. Can't even work on my latest crafts cos I'm having to drive and lift and all."  
  
For a moment, you're able to forget the heavier and more fraught reason you're in Kyoto, and it's easy to be swept away by the sincere joy of unexpectedly bumping into Kanji. It's funny how it feels like you've never been separated when you meet up again with anyone from the gang, and shifting back into the friendly banter feels like donning a familiar and well-worn set of clothes.  
  
While driving around, he answers your questions about life by describing what's changed in his. Turns out that he's been busy with work from the textile shop, and the swirl of recent activity from the Kyoto location was keeping him occupied. Still, he looks energized by it, and he even describes some of the more recent personal projects he's been developing, which include a series of teddy bear plushes that have customizable outfits.  
  
As per usual when talking with one of the team, he goes on to share updates about what the others have been up to, based on recent bits of conversation. It's good to learn that Rise has been slowing down to experiment with other career opportunities, and Naoto was unsurprisingly pursuing yet another degree in cognitive science. You both grimace and bond over the shared sentiment of never wanting to return to school, and he asks you if you've heard from Yosuke, Teddie, or Souji. He seems unsurprised to learn about Souji's current gig, but that changes when you share what you know of Yosuke's latest whereabouts.  
  
"He's going on a...a _what_?"  
  
Sighing, you reach around and scratch the back of your neck.  
  
"Yep, you heard me. Yosuke's embarked on something he called a 'spiritual journey'..."  
  
The two of you share a brief look before Kanji fixes his gaze back onto the road, and you take the moment to speak straightforwardly. "Maybe he's finally coming out of the closet or something?"  
  
Kanji sputters and the car swerves, and you yell before he rights it immediately.  
  
"Kanji, please!" He's clearly flushed and glances at you quickly before attempting to refocus on driving.  
  
"No way, I didn't know Yosuke-senpai was..."  
  
You roll your eyes so hard they threaten to get stuck in the back of your head.  
  
"Oh come on! You never got a vague inkling? Like, not even a tiny bit? Partner this, partner that..." you giggle and are relieved when Kanji laughs a bit under his breath too. "Yeah, maybe but man, that shit's crazy when you think about how much he was ribbing me back then...."  
  
At that, you nod solemnly. "...yeah, that really wasn't okay. Though you know, it's not like I know for certain. I'm mainly guessing here." You cross your arms and throw Kanji a cheeky smile.  
  
"...Buuuut you know what they say about a woman's intuition!"  
  
The rest of the conversation passes in good humor, and before you know it, it's midafternoon when the deliveries are finally finished. Your mood is further improved when he informs you that lunch will be at a local beef bowl place he's grown fond of.  
  
With your chopsticks poised over a steaming bowl of freshly grilled meat and rice, you are more than ready to bury your feelings under an avalanche of food.  
  
"Kanji, you really know how to treat a lady."  
  
He laughs and seems just as amped as you to chow down. The meal is spent in companionable silence, and every morsel of cooked beef melts right onto your tongue. You make a note to remember this place in case you're ever back in the area, because you know more than a few friends from work who would easily make the trek over for such a treat. When he goes to pay for the check, you fiddle with a toothpick, knowing already that you're not ready to be wandering the city alone again. It's late afternoon at this point, and you figure it could really help to keep busy for at least another hour or so. When he returns, you shrug your jacket on and decide to tentatively ask if he's free for a cup of coffee or tea.  
  
"Come on, the drinks will be my treat. It's the least I could do after you took me out to such a delicious lunch!" He agrees, and you wonder if he's anywhere near as grateful as you for the familiar company.  
  
You look around the block for a quick moment before zoning in on the perfect place. He's skeptical as the dingy elevator takes you two up, but the moment the doors open, the mewling of cats is impossible to miss.  
  
"Senpai...is this a cat cafe? I've never been to a cat cafe..." With wide-open eyes, he's already knelt down to pet a cat behind the ears, and before you can answer him, he's swarmed by another four cats.  
  
"You know, this is my first time too. I just figured maybe this might be something up your alley, that's all." He blushes a little, and it's refreshing to see that he doesn't try to deny it.  
  
You ask him what his drink of choice is and watch him play with the cats on a nearby sofa as you punch in the order. When you return with his latte and your mocha, he seems to be completely absorbed by a personal mission to fawn over as many cats as humanely possible.  
  
"Thanks, Senpai. Check this little guy out, he's got...the softest...whitest...paws...I've ever seen. They're practically socks..." Kanji's holding the cat in his lap and you worry for a minute that he's going to start tearing up, "...the socks of an angel."  
  
You guffaw, never unamused by his weakness for cute things, and once you start petting the cat in question, you decide he's sorta right. The cat _is_ cute as hell. Eventually, Kanji calms down enough to focus back to you, and he's idly scratching the side of his face when he asks his next question. "So, listen, I totally get you're not allowed to talk about the cases ya work on and stuff...but is the one you're here for a big one? Considering they're pulling you all the way from Tokyo, it sure sounds important."  
  
You wince, wishing the past few years gave you the valuable skill of deceit but alas, you were always, _always_ a poor liar. "Ha, well, the truth is Kanji, I'm not really here for work..."  
  
You trail off, wondering about the best wording to use before deciding screw it, subtlety was never your forte either.  
  
"...apparently Yukiko's in town. Souji texted me a little over a week ago and told me she wanted to see me. He said he thought I should visit, and well, here I am." Fiddling with your half empty cup is a good way to avoid Kanji's reaction, but you're sure it's some mixture of shock and disbelief.  
  
"Oh...woah, no way. That's crazy, Senpai."  
  
You take another sip and shake your head.  
  
"Yeah...crazy's one way to describe it."  
  
He leans over, resting his arms on his knees and looks you squarely in the eye.  
  
"...you okay? That can't be easy news to hear. I mean shit, it's been forever. You're gonna go, right?"  
  
For a moment, his assumption annoys you, only because it serves as a reminder that everyone might still see you as some hopeless, pathetic puppy always trailing after Yukiko.  
  
Your lack of an immediate answer seems to steer his line of questioning in another direction though, and he ruffles his hair and leans back into the sofa. "I mean hell, Senpai, if you don't mind me saying, if I were you, I'd definitely go."  
  
This catches your interest and you look at him, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"You...would?"  
  
He nods before finishing, tone resolute.  
  
"Hell yeah I would. I'd go to at least demand an answer for how the hell she thought it was okay to just ghost on us like that! After all the shit we'd been through as a team, I think we deserve an explanation at least. It's just not like Yukiko-senpai to pull something like that. It's not like any of us, to be honest." He takes a drink and idly pets a black cat that's meandered back over. "...I'm sure she's got her reasons for what she did, and you know, this sounds like an opportunity to hear it out."  
  
You look down at the dregs of your beverage, turning his words over in your head. In some ways, his voice is an amplifier for the things you've quietly been thinking, and it feels good to have another vote of confidence that coming to visit was the right thing to do. If anything, you decide, it could feel better to say you gave understanding and closure an honest shot. Though a part of you wonders if you're ready to handle that confrontation, you do feel stronger with Kanji beside you and the words of Souji's support.  
  
"Yeah...thanks Kanji. I think you're right." Finally, you expel a long breath and laugh again, weakly this time. "You know, this whole morning before I bumped into you, I had half-a-mind to just board the train and go back home. This whole day's been something of a mess but man, am I glad to have crossed paths with you today. Talk about some luck, huh?"  
  
He smiles back at you, sincere and unabashed.  
  
"Hell yeah, I get that. Sounds more like fate to me though, Chie-senpai. Don't forget I got your back, and hey, remember you can lean on us when you need to. I'm sure any of the team would have said the same thing to ya."  
  
Your heart feels full and you hope he can see just how much it means to you. The two of you play with the cats and chat for a while longer until before you know it, the hour is up. Given it's still spring, the sun is shining despite it being late in the day, and as you walk out into the sidewalk, he asks if you need a ride anywhere. You decline, deciding that traveling to Yukiko's on your own might give you enough time to sort out some vague semblance of a gameplan. Beyond trying your damnedest not to cry and look like a complete nutjob, you don't really have a single idea about what you might do or say.  
  
"Ah, well, alright Senpai," he takes a step towards his van before turning around again to face you.  
  
"Hey, seriously though, it was real nice bumping into you. Definitely hit me up if you're back in Kyoto. I'm usually here at least three days of the week these days."  
  
You smile cheekily and shove your hands in your pockets, wondering what the hell you did to deserve such good friends.  
  
"Yeah, same goes for you Kanji. Let me know whenever you're in Tokyo! And thanks again. For lunch and for the talk. It...it really helped."  
  
He makes a noise as if to express that your gratitude is unnecessary, and he climbs into the van, waving one final time before he drives away.  
  
"Take care, Senpai! You got this!"  
  
It all seems a tad bit overboard, and makes you feel like you're gearing up for a boss fight in a video game but by this point, you're getting used to all the weird ways your friends show their love. You muss up your hair and whip out your phone, plugging in the address again. It's a little closer now, clocking in at a forty-five minute walk, and you're grateful to know you've got some time left to figure things out.

 

* * *

  
  
Cram school must have let out, because you start to notice trickles of students pass you by and parents with groceries in hand as you make your way around the neighborhood.  
  
You're good for about thirty minutes before the anxiety creeps back in, and you make a silent vow to not type on your phone, least you find that you've plugged in the address for the train station instead. The sun begins its slow descent, painting the sidewalk and the sides of houses in washes of orange and blinding yellow. You're idly chewing the tip of your tongue, running through the lines you might say.  
  
'How are you doing?' Too basic and vague.  
  
'Long time no see?' No, that was stupid. And tacky.  
  
'Souji told me to come.' Weak...and shifting the blame to someone else to make it even worse, yikes.  
  
What if she wasn't even home? What if she went on holiday or something? You're not sure if the possibility that she may not be there excites you or depresses you, and you are starting to wonder about how many mood swings you can go through in a day without spontaneously combusting. Or...what if she lived with someone? A roommate...or...a boyfriend? The thought makes you freeze. You had never even considered that, and now that you are considering it, you realize it's actually pretty thickheaded of you to have missed the possibility. It was totally likely that she was with someone. And living with them. And doing couple-y stuff in Kyoto. Was she married? Oh my god, what if she had children? Seven years was enough time for all of that to happen, wasn't it?  
  
Your thoughts screech to a halt and you are distinctly aware that you are mentally careening off into a sidetrack of pure shit, and it takes a few more moments to compose your thoughts again.  
  
So what if all of the above was true? You were just going to meet for a talk. Or...a greeting. Or a conversation, maybe, if things don't crash and burn too quickly. It'd be stupid of you to expect anything monumental to come out of this. There's just too much time thats passed to expect that there could be space in her life for you again, and sharply, you realize you are prickly at the thought that she might expect you to welcome her back into yours. You don't know what you're feeling about her in the present tense, and honestly, since Souji called, you have been very diligent in digging up dirt for the specific purpose of covering up that particular tomb of emotion. In some ways, you had come to terms with that part of your life and its emotional baggage as a cauterized limb, sealed tight and useless.  
  
Circling back to that sentiment helps to ground you a bit, and you realize, if you try really hard and stay focused, this meeting could stay simple and straightforward. You just want to see how she's doing, and if she can help you understand why she left all those years ago, effectively excommunicating herself. There was no need for a real plan for anything beyond that. In fact, the brainstorming helps you realize that you're not even equipped to scaffold for anything further.  
  
Yes, good. You feel ready. Or rather, you feel as ready as you'll ever be.  
  
It takes ten more minutes until you arrive, and you balk when you realize that the GPS is circling you around a small cluster of residential units. Your phone cant seem to pick out the right apartment, and the situation feels so ridiculous that you give up and decide to find it on your own. You wonder if Souji forgot to paste a number or something, but there's no point in wasting time to speculate and you end up trekking three flights of stairs just to look for the right number. By the time you cross the street to try the next building, you're starting to become a little agitated. You're not really thinking when you stomp up the stairs, and it's definitely your fault when you shove right into someone while turning the corner, effectively knocking the bags right out of their hands.  
  
"Woah, sorry!! Let me get that for you."  
  
You get down to pick up the plastic convenience store bags, and you feel embarrassed for being so wrapped up in your own head. If it was a little kid you ran into, you could have seriously hurt them at the speed you were going at.  
  
"...Chie?"  
  
This is the second time you are being unexpectedly called by your name today, but unlike earlier, you can feel your stomach drop when you hear it this time. From your position on the floor, you have to crane your head up to confirm the identity of the speaker, but in your gut, you already know who it is.  
  
"...Hey."  
  
It's weak, and you sound dumb, but to be fair, this was really not how it was supposed to play out at all. Yet here you are, seven years later as Chie Satanoka, complete dingus of the year, bent on a knee before none other than Yukiko Amagi.  
  
You want to cry at the poetic injustice of it all, and none of the courage and frankness you were building up seem to be within reach.  
  
She's staring at you, and you're staring at her, and you can't even stop your eyes from soaking it all in: the cut of her shorter hair, the curve of her jawline, the slope of her neck, the brightness of her white cardigan, the surprise in her eyes, and the red hue of her headband.  
  
"...were you...looking for me?"  
  
She sounds familiar, older maybe, but mostly familiar and not as strange as you thought she would, and for now, she sounds mainly unsure.  
  
"Yes."  
  
For a moment you wonder if you're answering that literally or psychologically. She blinks, and you blink, and the only sound you can hear is a loud thrumming you think is an impending migraine and the crinkling of the plastic bag in your hands.    
  
"Oh. You were close. I live right there," she gestures to a door down the hall and gingerly picks up the other bag on the floor. She walks towards it and you follow, trying to figure out if you've made a horrible mistake after all and if she didn't really mean it when she told Souji she wanted to see you. Was this how she acted when she was excited? No, you think, excited Yukiko didn't look like this but again, seven years--  
  
\--"Please, come in."  
  
You nod, something of a weird jerk of the head, and step into her home.  
  
"Sorry it's messy, I've been meaning to clean it but it's been unexpectedly busy..."  
  
It's certainly not clean but it's also not anywhere near as messy as your own room so you hardly register it. Upon first glance, you notice that the apartment is a small studio flat. It doesn't seem likely that there'd be room for another person. You follow her into the kitchen and she places the bag onto the counter, which you do too.  
  
"Would you like tea? Or maybe water?"  
  
You smooth out your shirt and try to chew around the glue of discomfort in your mouth to spit out a full sentence.  
  
"Tea is fine."  
  
Wow, well done, full points for coherency. She nods and collects water in the kettle before rummaging around a cupboard, seemingly oblivious to the internal chaos you are experiencing, and you suddenly have a hard time deciding where to rest your eyes. Was it rude to stare? It was probably rude to stare. Did you bother to look decent before you arrived? When was the last time you got a haircut anyways? You probably looked rumpled from the train ride and it was likely that you smelled of meat...and cats.  
  
"Please, take a seat."  
  
You do so, uncomfortably. You are starting to feel like a guest at the Amagi Inn, and you wonder if she even knows that she's acting that way. Or maybe this was just how she was nowadays? Suddenly, you miss the absurd sense of humor she used to have, the bouts of terrifying giggling, and the dreamy and slightly unhinged perspective she'd bring to things. You wonder if any of those traits are still in there. She pulls out two beautiful ceramic cups and places a teabag in each, her back still facing you. You decide to brave another attempt at verbal communication, not really able to tolerate the continued silence.  
  
"...Souji mentioned you reached out to him. He told me where to find you and said maybe you wanted to see me? I didn't do anything creepy to find this place, promise."  
  
That was maybe not the best collection of words to ever leave your mouth and you ended up saying the thing you said you wouldn't. At this point, you are beginning to wish for a way to reset this whole conversation and try again from the start.  
  
"Besides if I really was a creep, then I probably would have found it a little sooner with enough digging around at the precinct, you know? Uh, wait, that probably sounds even creepier."  
  
You are the backpedaler now, it is you. How quickly the tables have turned. You wince and make a strained noise of disgruntlement.  
  
"Okay, never mind, enough about that. How are you? Long time no see, right?"  
  
How is it that you ended up saying the three things you literally told yourself you wouldn't say? The kettle sings and she pours out the water, finally turning to look at you as she places the cup before you while taking a seat across the small table.  
  
"...I did want to see you."  
  
Her eyebrows knit, and you remember that look, often seen whenever she was buried in a set of interesting books or when she was trying to wrap her head around someone's attempt at flirting.  
  
"I know...that it's been a long time. I don't know what to say about that. I just knew that I didn't want for that time to grow any longer and I'm sor--"  
  
"--what, no, hold on, you can't be serious."  
  
Suddenly, as if a flip is switched in your head, your nervous bumbling and awkwardness vanishes and is instantly replaced by a growing rash of anger. Kanji and Souji's well-placed and patient words fly right out the window, and before you can filter yourself, the words come pouring out.  
  
"You can't be apologizing only because you decide to feel bad about things all of a sudden. It doesn't work like that. You're not allowed to make things go back to how they were just because you don't like the way they look anymore."  
  
She's shocked, and her lips are slightly open and you hate yourself for noticing it but you are also too preoccupied in trying to slow down your thoughts to control the heat and pace of your words. It's not working very well. There is a hot and righteous anger in your bones, a bittersweet reminder of a place you were in while typing email after email and writing letter after letter to a girl who would never receive them.  
  
"Chie, I--"  
  
"--no, I'm not done! What you did was _messed up_! You can't honestly just come out of the blue and try to apologize to me like it's something I'm even capable of understanding, you can't seriously just think we're all going to snap back into place for you like you never left!"  
  
The words seem to strike a chord, because her surprise gets replaced with a flash of her own irritation.  
  
"I never said that."  
  
It's steely and cool, but if anything, the distant attitude just fans your anger. You stand abruptly with your hands still clenched on the table top, and your movement almost knocks the cup onto the floor.  
  
"You don't know what it was like when you left. I waited for you, you know? You never said anything, and you just went and disappeared like it didn't cost you anything, like it didn't even bother you, and I waited so long for you to come back or even contact me, dammit, I wrote so many dumb letters and even tried calling you which was just plain stupid and--"  
  
\--wait, hold on, this wasn't how it was supposed to go either--  
  
"--and god, the team wouldn't stop treating me like I was some kind of _broken animal_ or something and sometimes I felt like something was wrong with me because I wouldn't stop waiting for you, Yukiko--"  
  
\--wait, stop, stop, stop--  
  
"--and it took me so much time to try adjusting properly, it took way too long, and do you know how many times I spent wondering if it was something I did? If I was just that much of a shitty friend or if I freaked you out somehow because I was too intense or clingy or--"  
  
-enough, stop talking, too much information--  
  
"--maybe, I don't know, _too fucking gay_?"  
  
The last part ends up sounding more like a screech, and you are panting, almost out of breath, as if you ran countless laps around the block. Your eyes are prickling. You think if you cry now, you might hate yourself.  
  
You screw your eyes shut and you bow your head because you don't want her to see your face, because you can already feel the onset of angry tears, and goddammit, you are going to scream if you actually cry here and now.  
  
You barely hear the scrape of her chair against the floor and your feet feel strangely bolted to the ground, keeping you in place like the roots of a dying tree.  
  
There is a hand on your face and your eyes do not open in time to see hers when she closes the distance to kiss you, and dammit, you cry, and the feeling is so cathartic you think you might pass out.  
  
She peppers your face in kisses, and under the pathetic pitch of your own sobs, you hear her muttered apologies, her rushed and quiet I'm sorry's as her hands continue to hold your wet face. You don't know how much time passes. Eventually, the two of you end up on the floor, and she is still holding you. She smells so damn good and warm and familiar and unfamiliar at once, and you have been waiting all this time and it is such an awful and lovely feeling to be back home.  
  
She waits for you to calm down, and she combs through your hair gently as you try to understand what is happening.  
  
"...I'm sorry for causing you that pain, I...I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that I needed to leave, and I needed to do it by myself. I didn't mean to hurt you, Chie, and I'm sorry but I can't really explain it even now."  
  
While it sucks that the answer you've been waiting seven years for exists in some vacuum of "I don''t know", you also recognize that if she asked you why it hurt you so much or why you cared so obsessively or even why you waited so long to begin with, your answer would probably live in a very similar vacuum.  
  
"Chie, I'm here now, if you want me to be."  
  
It's odd.  
  
The confrontation is not the fantasy you had, not anywhere close to any of them (and you accumulated a lot over the years), and it's weirder still to realize that reality was able to one-up you in a competition of the strange and unexpected.  
  
"...of course I want you to be, stupid. I just..."  
  
There are a lot of questions still, wedged between pockets of "when" and "why" and "how" but in a way, there doesn't feel like a rush to go through all of them.  
  
"...It took me a long time to realize it but, if you'll let me, I want to be by your side. I miss you."  
  
Love is a weird thing and right now, you don't think you can say that word to Yukiko. You don't think you can afford to make yourself more vulnerable than you are, but sitting on the cold linoleum of her kitchen floor and feeling the warmth and heat of her body next to yours keeps the flame alight, however tender.  
  
"I missed you too, Yukiko."  
  
There's no confession, there's no interrogation about your sexuality, there's no feel-good bonding that happens at the ends of the evening. At some point, she pulls you into her bed and lends you clothes to sleep in. As you settle in, she cautiously reaches for you, hand hovering tentatively over yours before you reach for it. You rest it on your waist, and her touch on you feels natural and inexplicably right. She's soft and the bed is warm, the moon is bright, and your heart feels full and mind-numbingly sensitive. You wonder if you can stomach another disappearance, or if she returns your feelings in that way, and what you might text Souji tomorrow. You wonder a lot of things, and feel like a lighthouse for lost boats out at sea.  
  
In the end, you decide that if you could wait seven years for Yukiko Amagi to wash up on the shores of your life again, you could wait a little longer to untangle the rest.  
  
Sleep comes easily that night.  
  
You dream of passing rain clouds and the lifting fog on a bright morning sun.


End file.
